Gerry Douglas Sherwood
Well, I was born in Eastbourne, but had nothing to do with the sea. Spent my first years in Sussex - then we moved to Cambridge - all in-land, nothing to do with the maritime... though one of my ancestors was a rear-admiral. But that has nothing much to do with it.
When I was young, I always remember very clearly - that I always had my mind on anything mechanical. For instance, I always used to take my sister's toys apart, see how they worked. My toys, I loved seeing the clockwork mechanism. I didn't do very well at school, but I didn't like school. That’s probably why. The opportunity came when I left school to go down to London, to take an engineering course. So I went to London and lived there with a Chinese family. And I learnt all the skills of engineering down there - which I absolutely loved. But life in London after six years got a bit dull, and I wanted to move on to something else. But preferably, a really unusual job that involved mechanics and engineering. But I hadn't a clue what to do…
…I was thumbing through [a careers encyclopaedia] and I saw Trinity House [the lighthouse keeping authority], and I thought - wow, this is right up my street. Very unusual job - never even thought about it in a thousand years before that.
So I went back to London and I literally walked into Trinity House and said - how do I become a lighthouse keeper? They said you've got to pass these tests. Make Sure you're literate – coming straight from college, that was a bit of an insult, I thought [Gerry laughs] - and make sure you're healthy - good eyesight and so on and so forth - so I went through all this rigmarole and then I had to wait for about a month. Then I received this letter through the post - proceed to Dungeness for initial training. So I actually started my lighthouse career at Dungeness.
And that was a month after you first considered joining?
Yes, around about a month or so. And I went down there, and I had no idea what to expect. It was completely new to me. Most jobs you go into and you think - you know something about it. But not lighthouse keeping - it's something completely alien to me. So in fact I drove down there in my bubble car - I used to have a bubble car at one time. I don't know if you've actually been to Dungeness - but it's quite overwhelming. A huge beach of flat shingle. And right at the very end - two lighthouses, an old one and a new one. I didn't even know who to go to. It didn't say ‘ring this bell, your keeper will come out'.
So I went down there and I actually went into the new lighthouse, which is fortunate because that's where the watches were kept. And met a nice chap called Ted Whaley - assistant keeper at the time, who lived there with his wife, and who really took me under his wing. You know - ‘come in, meet the wife, this is where your quarters are going to be...’
He explained about the watch-keeping system and the meteorological readings that had to be taken every so often. And he really showed me all the ropes. And the longer I was down there, the more I enjoyed it. And I thought - well, this is really not a bad sort of life.
So that was very lucky, having a friendly keeper as your first…
I think it was. From what I understand from other keepers, some of their first experiences were quite bad. Some of them had a crusty old PK - didn't really want them on their station, gave them a really rough time. But no, I was lucky at Dungeness - the PK was okay, the AK was alright. And I met some of the other crew - the other SAKs that came through - and they just told me more about the job as I went on. And within a month I was sent up to Harwich for formal training. I was up there for a month and you learnt baking. Morse code. Signal flags. Basically how to look after yourself on a station, and the sort of routine you'd expect to find on a rock station principally.
How old were you at the time?
I must have been 21 then. Yes, I suppose I was 21.
What were your first impressions of the job?
Yes, my first impressions would have been at Dungeness. Thinking back it's very difficult to categorise - it's such an unusual situation. You're stuck at the end of this shingle headland - right by this power station, because Dungeness Power Station is right next door. And that produced a constant noise - and, it's just learning the ropes. It's doing watch-keeping systems. Each day was divided into four watches. That's four o'clock to midday, mid-day to eight, eight till midnight and midnight till four. But that's shared between three keepers, and it works out that every third day you have 24 hours free of duty.
Now this was something quite novel - every three days you have a day off! So you go into Folkstone, you go up to Rye - I had my car with me then, I'd just go and travel the countryside. I'd buy an ordinance survey map and explore the area. This was a huge bonus because I love travelling anyway. This fit in with my particular likings and way to live my life, you see. Then when you come back you know you have your watch and the responsibilities of doing the cleaning, and the met, and all the rest of it. And it builds up a great sense of responsibility. So you get a holiday and a responsible job side by side.
What were the responsibilities you had?
The basic responsibilities of a keeper, officially was to maintain the aids to navigation. And under that heading you'd find the navigation light, fog signal, radio beacon - anything that assists ships out at sea. And it's the keepers responsibility then to keep his watch, and if the fog came in you'd start up tile fog signal, you'd monitor the light - make sure the light was shining all the lime - if anything it was your responsibility to put it right. Every three hours we passed on a met reading to Manston Aerodrome. That all went into the local shipping stations or whatever, so people could get an instant Met report. And of course, keeping the place neat and tidy. There would be a set routine every day. Say I was on morning watch on a'1'hursday, that would be the day to clean tile lens. And on a Friday, that might be the day to clean the tower steps and the base.
And would that be the whole day cleaning the lens?
Oh, no, no. Luckily at Dungeness it was a fairly small lens, didn't take too long. But subsequently I went to stations with what they call a ‘first order lens', which virtually filled the entire lantern, and it might take several days to clean that properly, shared amongst the keepers. One day I'd do the central bull's eyes, and the other keeper would do one side and the other the other side. Mainly because of the physical size of them.
With all those prisms, it does take a long time to clean a lens like that. But when I started, you have to remember, there were still oil lights. Lights lit by paraffin, which was called LMO then - Light Mineral Oil. But the principle was of a tilly light. Pressurised paraffin going through a mantle, which you physically had to light with a lit taper.
Was that quite dangerous, or…?
Not really, once you understood it. I mean, you could get things like blow-backs and if you didn't put the lantern curtains up you might get the sun shining back through the lens and that could create a fire. But it's so antiquated. This was left over From the 19"' century. I mean, it's all polished brass everywhere. Paraffin lights must have been redundant donkey's years before, but in the lighthouse service they were still there.
Why do you think that was?
It was because it was an efficient system ...the workshops were completely geared up to equip and maintain this equipment. They even had such things as explosive Fog signals... At Beachy I lead even the domestic lights were oil lights. On going to bed, you'd take an oil light with you. But across the sea was the Royal Sovreign lighthouse. Built in the 60s. everything was completely up to date. Automatic systems, warning systems, fire control systems. They had push button systems. Heating. Across the sea, 191" and 20"' Century were juxtaposcd.
Trinity House were reluctant to update their technology, so entrenched in tile old systems were they. But the change came with the first helicopter relief in the early 1970s. They took over from ships, and suddenly you had instant access to off shore stations. New equipment could be sent straight out. There was no waiting for a calm sea. That changed the face of lighthouse keeping. We loved it, because our watch was changed From two months at sea to one month at sea.
Tell us about the lighthouses
The towers are immensely strong, well engineered, dovetailed bricks... you're looking at thousands of tonnes of granite, locked into the base rock.
They'd build the rock lighthouses a bit at a time. Even when it was complete, strictly speaking it was too dangerous to be outside. A wave could come and take you just like that. The beginning of the job meant being tied down, working as the sea rushed around you. Heck of a job.
When I first joined the service, the number of ships passing by would be enormous. Containers changed things, as the ships got larger and larger. The container ships could only go through deep water.
We knew from the start that Trinity I louse wanted to adopt the latest technology - it had to. We get the demise of explosive fog signals and boat reliefs. We get satellites and helicopters. Much brighter lights. Different electronic navigation systems. By the time I left the service, the microchip was king. One small microchip could do the job of the keeper. And probably even more efficiently than we did, and for much less cost. It's really a cost - Cutting exercise. Efficiency and cost - cutting.
[Some of the older keepers took it worse... ] One virtually went kicking and screaming. He wrote something in the ‘order book' - a sort of sacred book in the service - which fortunately I was able to get rid of before anyone saw. He just felt so strongly about being asked to leave the service. Bad business. But most of them saw it – ‘Well, if we've got to leave, we've got to leave'.
Where did you like working best?
Anyone asking me which was my fondest station - Flatholm. 6 mile island in the middle of the Bristol Channel. From 77 to 82 there were just the three keepers with the run of the gorgeous island. Had a really good crew. We'd pick mushrooms and blackberries. We cleaned the beach - had bonfires. Including dead sheep or calves or anything else we found floating around. Each keeper had their own bedroom. Central heating, fitted carpet, double glazing, gardens outside. Radio, television, fridge, freezer - it was all there. It was a gull colony unfortunately, but there was a colony of rabbits. And one tortoise. We used to prick the gull's eggs, and used to have to kill the rabbits with myxomatosis.
What kinds of people came to the service?
There were all kinds of backgrounds for keepers. Coal miner. Teacher. A BBC Boom operator back in the 70s. I lippies. People who were unemployed. Not so many from the armed services as you might imagine. It was more the kind of person you wee - self reliant. You had to get on with people.
How did the job affect people’s relationships?
It was easier to go into the service and then find a woman than the other way round. Leaving your wife to fend for herself for such a long time... a huge element of married life suddenly disappeared. The woman would embrace the lifestyle as a novelty at first, but that wore off pretty quickly. I've known many keepers divorced directly because they were in the service. And the children - when you went ashore, you'd be a stranger.
Did those concerns manifest on the station?
Yes, sometimes. Was she being faithful? That played on men's minds. So the most successful keepers were bachelors. One - on Flatholm - volunteered to live there in one of the out - buildings. He didn't want to go home. Nothing for him on the shore - the service was his li1e. He couldn't relate to people ashore. And I must admit, after four weeks at sea, when you came ashore the changes were very marked. You almost felt like an alien - cars rushing past... you had to start using money again. A very strange thing. The bottom line with lighthouse keeping - it's a self - imposed exile. It's like being in prison, but you volunteer to be there. You get most of the benefits. But coming ashore, you do feel like an escaped prisoner.
What rules would you follow to survive life on a lighthouse?
Never discuss religion or politics - though of course we did. But boys being boys you'd never discuss your private life. Get two women together and the first thing they're going to talk about is each other's private lives. But with men it's quite the opposite. Football and cars and women.... On Needles it was a great atmosphere... a laugh from beginning to end... With the coal miner I had long conversations into the night about philosophy, the creation of the universe... long conversations which really expanded your mind because you had the time and the space to do it. And to get someone on that level is extremely rewarding. And you meet new people and you pass it on to them. But on the whole, the domestic stuff you didn't talk about. You tended to go for the meaty stuff down the other end…
…We had some absolute maniacs in the job... Good grief. I'm not going to name anybody but there really were one or two psychotics.
What kind of behaviour?
Paranoid schizophrenic, I should say! One chap was known for a very quick temper. Attacked several women he knew. When he was on station a friend of mine was so nervous he used to keep a hammer under his pillow. As long as he fulfilled his duties he a man would be kept on... there were some pretty weird people about. Most would get out but others who didn't like it stayed on, which I never understood. First thing they'd do ashore was go to the boozer, spend the entire time in tile pub. Waste of a life - no interest in anything, apart from sitting in front of the television.
Did you ever have any disasters on station?
One time a light exploded with tremendous force - as I climbed the tower there was broken glass... Other time the fog signal broke, another time had to operate a tilly light all night as a last resort. But on the whole it was very reliable. But these days there's only a I% failure rate per year. And that's a testament to modern technology.
Tell us about that process of automation
As the modern automation came in, it got more and more intense over fifteen years. Voluntary redundancy first, then compulsory. Because of my seniority I moved from light to light till there were only 9 keepers left. I was one of the last to leave. Tile three of us left the service from Nash point in 1998. When North Foreland was closed we had a huge ceremony there. We all took it quite philosophically.
There was a flog signal that had been redundant for about a year but keepers being keepers all the brass was polished... walking into this old engine room, you knew was dead, was very sad... when all this automation came it was wham, on the scrap heap... very strange altogether... There were technicians and builders in there with you at the end. Dust everywhere - but still, pride in the job. You left the station with polished brass.
You had a great sense that what you did was for the last time. I had to decommission fog signals and engines. You wanted to do things properly. We had to break Lip a wooden lamp cupboard - that was really sad. We knew it had to be over a hundred years old. But we volunteered to do it rather than someone else, to try to save as much as was possible. We tried to dismantle it rather than to destroy it.
How do you think people see you, as lighthouse keepers?
The wild waves and the brave keepers looking out to sea - it never happened, but it sold papers. The bottom line with keeping is it’s just a Job. We earned a living same as anybody else. All the drama just happened to us - we didn't create it. The media were very active during automation. Now, nothing. Which is why this film is good - the follow up. Hopefully you'll present it in a true light [laughs]. Now I give talks on a voluntary basis - the Bank of England Yacht Club... the Marks and Spencer's retirement club in Norwich...
Have you still got your uniform?
No, because I was no longer entitled to wear it and if I did it would be for a frivolous reason. So I sent it to Sutor Point to be put on display. Because I went and they had only a naval uniform on display, being represented as a keeper's uniform. And I said well, that's not right.
Do you dream of lighthouses?
Yes, I do dream of lighthouses... It might be being on watch in a storm, or talking to one of my colleagues... or part of some other adventure. I have to confess I dream a great deal - which is great. I love it. Adventures when you're awake and adventures when you're asleep.
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